The Crown of the Emperor
by M. Andrew Sorensen
Summary: A chance encounter leads a legend and a legend-to-be on a chase through the desert and to the seat of the Roman Empire to find a relic that could subjugate the world.   a thank you to a friend for the 'MacGuffin' in this story! You know who you are!


**CHAPTER I**

The main hall of the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities had been transformed into a bright, shining ballroom for the evening's gala. The treasures that survived the destruction of Hamunaptra had finally been cleaned, catalogued, and readied for display, just in time to celebrate the departure of the event's host.

Evelyn Carnahan-O'Connell, Interim Curator of the Museum, made her way through the room, greeting, smiling, while steering her husband along. She glanced sideways at him and saw that, although she knew he was uncomfortable in the tuxedo, Rick was smiling and being gracious to the guests.

"You're handling all of this remarkably well, Mr. O'Connell," she said teasingly.

"Yeah, I can fake sincerity with the best of 'em, Mrs. O'Connell," Rick responded out of the corner of his mouth, still smiling at the people around them.

Before she could respond, a pair of men, dressed sharply but not nearly as formally as everyone around them, came up to them. Both were wearing tweed jackets over rumpled shirts and ties, and even though their shoes had a gentle buff to them, they both had sand under the laces. Evelyn knew these were field-men.

"Hello, Ms. Carnahan! A pleasure to meet you, and might I say what a lovely facility you have here?"

"Yes, you may, and thank you very much, Mister…?"

"Oh, excuse me, horrible manners. I'm Abner Ravenwood, professor of archeology at the University of Chicago."

"Ah, Professor Ravenwood!" Evelyn said in delight. "I knew you were in the country, but I didn't know you'd be here this evening! The pleasure is mine." She took his hand in hers and shook it vigorously, if not exactly gracefully.

"I would never miss a display like this, Ms. Carnahan! The fact that you located Hamunaptra is amazing in its own right, but to see these artifacts is beyond words."

Evelyn smiled and tugged Rick a bit forward.

"It was actually my husband, Rick, who found the city."

Ravenwood took O'Connell's hand in a firm grasp.

"Oh, and there go my manners again, Mrs…"

"It's O'Connell, but Ms. Carnahan is fine. I've been so busy getting the collection ready, I haven't even changed my letterhead yet. And, while we're doing introductions, who's your young friend here?" she asked, gesturing to the man behind Ravenwood.

A few years younger than Rick, the man already had a look of a well-traveled explorer. He was a hair shorter than O'Connell, and not as solidly built, but he gave off the impression of a fighter, a scrapper. The scar across his chin added to that impression.

"This is my senior graduate student and field assistant, Henry Jones, Jr."

"My friends call me 'Indiana,'" the younger man said in a gruff voice.

Rick O'Connell tried – with only moderate success – to suppress a laugh, which brought a shadow to Jones's face. Before anything else could happen, Abner and Evelyn stepped between them.

"Ah, Mr. Jones," Evelyn said, defusing the situation. "I believe I read that you discovered the headpiece to the legendary Staff of Ra! That would make a wonderful addition to the collection here!"

Jones nodded politely, and only then took his eyes off of Rick.

"Actually, Abner found the spot, I just happened to be doing the digging. I believe it's still in Chicago being studied, correct, Professor?"

Ravenwood nodded.

"Yes, precisely. We've barely even had a chance to look at it, let alone start a translation on the script. I'd be glad to discuss it with you another time, but I fear we're keeping you from your other guests. I think we'll show ourselves around, then. Mrs. O'Connell, Mr. O'Connell, a pleasure." Ravenwood turned and lead Jones away.

Evelyn waited until the pair was out of ear-shot, then turned, glaring, to her husband.

"What?" Rick asked, all innocence. "C'mon, Evy, his nickname is 'Indiana'! It sounds like something you'd name a family pet!"

"Abner Ravenwood is one of the preeminent archeologists in the United States, if not the world! If you can't behave yourself, I'm going to have to stop introducing you to people!" Evelyn said in all seriousness.

"Oh, Heaven forbid…" his mock-horror response was cut off by a sharp elbow to the ribs.

Ravenwood led his protégée away from the curator.

"Surly behaviour won't win you any friends, Mr. Jones," he chided gently.

"I wasn't going to _do_ anything, Abner. I would never embarrass you like that."

"Right, because being forced to introduce you as 'Indiana' isn't embarrassing at _all_."

"Well, Indy works just as well."

Ravenwood let out an exasperated sigh. He'd had this argument and didn't feel like rehashing it again tonight. He was not, however, above a little good-natured goading.

"It's better this way, anyhow. That guy was huge. He might not have killed you, but I think that would have just been out of courtesy to his wife."

Indy finally chuckled and relaxed, enjoying the exhibits from the famed City of the Dead.

"Professor, take a look at this."

Ravenwood peered over his student's shoulder. Inside the case was a thin gold scrollwork inscribed with hieroglyphs and cartouches.

"_The Crown of the Emperor who lives for eternity_." Indy read aloud.

"Your translations are getting better, Mr. Jones."

"This doesn't make any sense, though. It looks like this it talking about Caesar's crown, the one that supposedly made him immortal until Cleopatra stole it. But that wouldn't have been for more than twelve hundred years after Imhotep's time."

"Well, Hamunaptra was used as a repository for the wealth of Egypt for centuries. I believe the legends put it still in use as late as the first or second century AD, even if that wasn't widely known. We'll probably see a wide range of time periods in this collection."

Without warning the lights in the museum went dark. The only illumination left came from a few decorative torches that had been set on the walls. The flickering from high above cause strange shadows across the floor, but the black-clad figures with the pistols and shotguns moving through the crowd make themselves very distinct. About a dozen men – or women, it was impossible to tell – spread through the room, herding everyone into the center of the floor.

With the crowd controlled and guarded, another figure dressed all in black entered, this one definitely a woman. She was dressed in black pants and a black jacket over a blood-red blouse. Her hair had been sun-bleached to match the desert sands reached the middle of her back. All of this was noted as an afterthought, the very large handgun in her left hand taking primary focus.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm," the woman announced with a noticeable accent to her voice. "There are a few baubles here that we need to collect and then we'll be on our way."

Ravenwood placed a hand on Indy's shoulder, feeling him tense.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop it. You'll just get killed."

Jones gritted his teeth but didn't do anything else as four of the thugs moved away from encircling the crowd to begin a search of the display cases.

Rick O'Connell watched as the armed thugs moved through his wife's museum. He must have tensed because he felt Evy's grip tighten in his hand.

"Don't," she said softly. "Nothing in here is worth having Alex grow up without his father."

"That's assuming they could take me out," Rick mumbled, but he relaxed a bit.

From somewhere near the front of the hall came the sound of smashing glass. The almost-musical sound of glassing tinkling to the floor was suddenly drowned out by the ringing of an alarm bell.

"Alarm on separate power? When did that happen?" O'Connell asked his wife.

"About the time we brought in two camel-loads for ancient treasure," she answered.

The armed thieves gathered around their leader and made their way out the door. Rick gave a five-count after they were out of sight and then ran to the door. He was joined there by the archeologist, Jones.

"You go high, I'll go low," Jones said.

Rick nodded and they barreled through the doors.

There was nothing out of the ordinary, just the typical pedestrian and vehicle traffic that would be found in Cairo on a Saturday night.

"I don't get it," Jones said, standing up straight. "We weren't that far behind them."

"Yeah, this town is great for people who want to disappear. C'mon, let's go see how bad the damage is."

**CHAPTER II**

It took half an hour of police reports, eyewitness accounts, and overall tedium, but Rick was finally left alone with his wife. She let him know that the only thing missing was the Emperor's Crown scroll.

"One thing? I can't believe that's all they got! I guess that alarm was a good investment. Scared 'em off pretty effectively."

"I don't think so," came a voice from behind them.

Rick rolled his eyes before turning with his wife to see Abner Ravenwood and his student approaching.

"What do you mean, Professor?" Evy asked politely.

"That woman, the leader, had an Italian accent," Ravenwood said as though that explained everything.

"And?" Rick said. "There are a lot of Italians out there, Professor."

"I understand that, Mr. O'Connell," Ravenwood said, his tone taking on the tone of a teacher speaking to a slow student. "However, there have been growing rumors of a group out of Rome searching for the Emperor's Crown, and since that scroll appears to be something of a key to helping locate it…."

"Pish," Evy said, "the story of the crown is just a legend."

"Yes," Ravenwood said with a smile, "a legend just like the lost city of Hamunaptra," he added, gesturing to the displays that lay around him.

Evelyn looked like she wanted to argue the point, but she couldn't. The evidence of 'legend' lay all around her.

"It doesn't matter right now," Rick cut in. "How do we find them and get the scroll back? I'm not going to stand around and watch as my wife gets a priceless artifact stolen on her watch as curator."

"There _are_ the archive photos," Evy mumbled. "I suppose the text of the scroll could be read from that."

Evy led the group to a storeroom in the back of the museum. The four spent several hours reading the ancient text and deciphering the clues. By three in the morning, Indy and Rick had plotted a likely course, and planned to set out at seven. The group said their good-byes for the evening, then parted company.

Evy and Rick sat, quietly enjoying the last few hours before they went their separate ways. Baby Alex was asleep in the basinet in the corner.

"You really don't have to go. We're moving thousands of miles away! Who'll care about an artifact stolen from Cairo?"

Rick stroked his wife's hair as she lay stretched on the couch, head on his chest. He looked down into her eyes and gave her a smile before he answered her.

"You know someone would always be ready to point out that it happened on your watch, Evy. Probably about the same time you're trying to convince someone to book a big exhibit when they're worried about security. Besides, you know your harshest critic would_ never_ let it rest."

"The Bembridge Scholars?" she said, suddenly concerned.

Rick gave a deep, warm chuckle.

"No, not the Scholars," he laughed, leaning down to brush her lips with his. "You."

She sighed into his kiss, and they didn't say anything else for a long, long time.

Marion opened the door to her hotel room to get the room-service breakfast she'd ordered. She knew Indy was already gone, but she'd hoped – fantasized, more like – to see him standing here, wearing his trusty fedora and that cocky lopsided grin. But no luck, all she found was her cart with her breakfast, and an envelope with her name. She pushed the cart into the room and opened the envelope. Her hands were trembling by the time she dropped to the couch, hands trembling and tears splashing on the page as she read and re-read the letter:

My dearest Marion,

By the time you're reading this, I'll have already left for the desert. I need you to know, and understand, why I won't be coming back to you. It hurts too much to see you, knowing that it's not meant to be, but I can't pretend any longer, and it's not fair to you. You're young, you have a lot to experience before you settle down, and you can do better than me.

Abner knows I won't be returning to Chicago with you. He was never excited that we were so close, and I think he's learned that we've been more than friends. He asked me not to return, set me up to finish my studies with Marcus Brody, a friend of my father's. I'll honor his wish, but please don't blame him. This was always about you and I, and it just isn't to be.

No one knows what the future holds, so who knows? Maybe our paths will cross again. But never forget that I am a student of history, and there are few things in the past I'll look as fondly on as our time together.

Try not to hate me too much,

HWJ, Jr

Indy

**CHAPTER III**

The air temperature was dropping rapidly by the time Jones and O'Connell were setting up their campsite. They had a tent on their pack horse, but with a desire to move fast in the morning, they'd opted for bed rolls by a fire. As they settled in over their bowls of beans and rice, O'Connell decided to see what his companion knew.

"So what's this crown your pop was talking about, anyway?" O'Connell asked. He knew the scroll was leading – supposedly – to the tomb of Cleopatra, but that was just the first step for the thieves.

Jones snorted a sarcastic laugh.

"Abner's not my dad. Trust me, my dad's a whole lot stuffier.

"The crown that the scroll talks about has a bunch of names – Bast's Gift, the Immortal Wreath, the Crown of Alexander – but it's usually called the Crown of the Emperor."

Jones sat up a little straighter, his voice taking on the tone of a teacher lecturing in a hall. O'Connell tried to appear mildly interest, but as the tale unfolded, he found it hard to disguise his excitement.

"The legend goes back to Alexander III of Macedon. While he was making his way through this part of the world he drew the attention of the Egyptian goddess Bast. Bast was impressed by Alexander and told him if he could stop the warring and unite Egypt, she would present him with a gift of a laurel crown and declare that as long as he wore it, he would never age, and he would never die, since that was her area of responsibility and she wouldn't allow him to die."

"Wait a minute," Rick interrupted, "I've learned a few things about the Land of the Dead around here – more that I want to know, really – and Bast is the cat. I don't know much about her, but I know the god of the Dead isn't her, that's Anubis."

"Yeah, you're right, smart ass. Anubis _is_ the god of the dead, but how d'ya think folks get to his neighborhood? Bast is the one who makes the decisions on who lives or dies, and when and how. She's also Anubis's wife. You're married, right? So you know who's really in charge."

O'Connell wanted to argue, but Jones was probably more right than Rick wanted to admit.

"Now, you wanna hear the rest of this or what?"

"Oh, please do go on, Professor Jones."

Indy shook his head at the sarcasm but continued.

"Ok, so, Alexander did exactly what Bast asked, so she presented him with the crown, but he refused it from her. There are images of him wearing it, but it never left with him when he left Alexandria. He told Bast that he would conquer the world on his own without being indebted to anyone. He left the crown in a vault that he put under the care of the Pharaohs, but he never told anyone what was in the vault.

"A few centuries later, Julius Caesar came to the desert paradise. While exploring the treasures, he came across the mosaic on the vault in Alexandria and discovered the crown. He knew the crown held power, and he wanted it for himself. Being well-versed in the stories of Alexander, Caesar knew the image of himself wearing the crown of Alexander the Great would be an overwhelming image for many parts of the world.

"Unfortunately for him, Cleopatra knew the power of the crown, also, but had thought it just a story. When Caesar left, she managed to steal it from him. After Caesar's death, Cleopatra offered the crown to Mark Antony. Antony was so in love with Cleopatra that he refused, telling her if he had to live forever without her, it wasn't worth the exchange."

"So," Rick said, enthralled with the story, "when Cleo died, the crown was just locked away with her stuff, and the scroll is supposed to tell where that treasure-chest is?"

"Exactly," Jones nodded, making a face around a spoonful of his now-cold dinner. "_Pax Romana_ – the group Ravenwood was talking about - believes that the crown was stolen from Caesar. I guess technically it was it was, according to legend. They feel if they can get it, they can bring back the glory days of the Roman Empire."

"So how much of it's true?" Rick asked.

Indy just shrugged.

"Alexander was here, Caesar, Cleopatra, Mark Antony, all of that's well documented. The rest….who knows?"

The rest of evening was sent finishing dinner, cleaning up, and going to bed on the cold desert ground.

_So much for the life of great adventure_, Jones thought as he drifted off to sleep.

O'Connell's thoughts weren't even that cheerful.

_Here we go again._

The sun had been up about an hour when Rick called them to a halt.

"Right there," he said, pointing off to the north.

"What?" Indy asked. "I don't see anything!"

Rick pointed again.

"See that shadow there, running mostly east-west? That's a ditch, and it gets deeper there at the eastern end. It's a ramp, I' sure of it."

"How could you _possibly_ know that?"

"Trust me," O'Connell said with a crooked smile, "finding lost cities in the desert is sort of a specialty of mine."

The pair dismounted and made their way slowly toward the small depression. Both men unconsciously dropped a hand to check their pistol, O'Connell with his left hand, Jones with his right, mirroring each other. They noticed the other at the same time.

"Whaddya got?" Jones asked.

"Chamelot-Delvigne 1873. You?"

"Smith and Wesson 1917."

"Nice piece. You ready?"

Jones motioned in an 'after you' gesture.

O'Connell and Jones both dropped to the sand, crawling up to the berm. Looking over the edge, they say the opening going down into the desert floor toward an open cavern. There were numerous tracks in the bottom of the gully, but the clearest – likely the most recent – were heading away from the opening.

"Looks like we might be too late," Jones said softly.

"C'mon. Let's go see if they left anything interesting."

Both men drew their guns as they slipped over the mounded sand and made their way down the ramp and through the opening at the bottom. Looking around, they realized they'd stumbled into an ancient warehouse more than a cave. The pillars were carved in great detail, still in sharp relief since they hadn't been exposed to the elements. Jones and O'Connell could see it all clearly because the museum thieves had left a few dozen Coleman lanterns. The light of the lanterns reflected off the piles of gold and gilded items all around the room.

With a shared nod, the men split up, Jones going left, O'Connell to the right. They worked their way around the perimeter of the room before meeting just to the left of a portal into another chamber.

"There are a few loaded REO two-tons back there." O'Connell whispered.

"A few on my side, too. Keep your eyes open, Rick. I don't think these things are going to drive themselves out of here."

Jones motioned into the other chamber and they started moving that way. Just as they crossed the threshold, both men felt cold gun-steel pressed to their necks, accompanied by the sounds of hammers being cocked.

**CHAPTER IV**

Jones and O'Connell knelt on the floor, side by side, stripped of their weapons and hands cuffed in their laps.

"At least they let you keep the hat," O'Connell murmured to Indy.

"Shut up," Jones snarled back, a little too loudly and earning himself a kick to the small of his back. He glared at O'Connell as he was yanked back up off the floor.

"You two should learn to play nicer," came a feminine voice from behind them.

The pair watched as the tall, sandy-haired headed woman from the museum stepped around from behind them. She had her hair pulled back in a loose tail over a brown leather jacket. A tight pair of jodhpurs were tucked into glossy black riding boots. She would the kind of woman that most men would trip over themselves for the chance to buy her a drink.

Unlike Jones and O'Connell, however, most men wouldn't be looking at her past the business end of a handgun.

"Colt 1911, huh? Very nice. .45?" Rick asked. It took him a moment longer to catch his breath from the boot in the ribs.

"You think wise-cracking will endear you to me?" she asked. "Stupid American arrogance!"

"Judging by the accent, lady, I'd say you're Italian. So, what, Mussolini got you out robbing graves, then?" Jones gave a sarcastic laugh.

She answered with a sharp, humorless laugh of her own.

"No, _Il Duce_ is an idiot and has nothing to do with me or why I'm here. He'd have me killed before letting me succeed. And I am _not_ Italian. _Civis Romanus Sum,_ I am Octavia Donocti, daughter of the Empire and direct descendent of Marcus Antonius himself."

Jones snorted a derisive laugh. He was shaking his head in amusement, so he never saw the back-hand that snapped his head around.

"Mock me at your peril," Donocti said softly, "but I already possess the Emperor's Crown, and with it, I will I will return _Pax Romana_ to the world. And it will be more glorious than ever."

"Ahh, good, world domination. And here I thought it was going to be a _stupid_ reason."

Donocti laughed, not even bothering to hit O'Connell this time. Before she could voice the response that had to come to her lips, one of her men approached her.

"Tavia, we're ready. The plane is ready at Almaza, the crate's already aboard."

"Good. Take these two outside and kill them. I don't want their blood to stain this place. Then make sure no one else can ever enter again."

Donocti holstered her weapon and walk out of the storehouse. Rick and Indy were dragged to their feet and, side-by-side, were shoved toward the hall between the chambers.

The guards shoved them to the side of the wall as three large trucks rumbled past and out the door. Jones and O'Connell took the chance to share a look and a nod. When the guards started shoving them back down the hall, one of them made the mistake of jabbing his gun right into Rick's back, letting Rick know exactly where he was. Turning quickly, he grabbed the guard's wrist and twisted, snapping it.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Jones swung his cuffed wrists back and up, smashing into his guard's nose and shattering it, leaving him an unconscious heap on the floor. While O'Connell finished up with his guard, Jones searched his and found the key for their handcuffs. Taking this, the guard's weapon, and reloads for the guns, he turned to help Rick. He needn't have bothered.

Before they could make a move, a shot rang out and skipped of the stone above their heads.

"Hey! That was my gun!" O'Connell yelled. "They're shooting at me with my own gun!"

"What? How would you know?" Jones replied.

"Trust me, I use it enough to know the sound."

Another shot skipped off the stone, this time along the wall behind Jones, covering him in a fine puff of dust.

"C'mon, that gun was a gift, and I'm going to get it back!"

Without waiting for a reply, O'Connell darted back down the way they'd come, dodging behind stacked crates and columns as he went. Cursing, Jones followed, gun in one hand and handcuff key in the other. He caught up with Rick behind a covered truck.

"Damn it, Rick, hold still for a second. Here…" Grabbing the cuffs on O'Connell's wrists, he popped the locks with the key. Then he handed over the key, holding out his hands, gun waiving dangerously near O'Connell's face.

O'Connell snatched the gun from Indy's hand before opening the cuffs.

"You're going to get someone killed!"

Jones snatched the gun back with little effort.

"Yeah, and if you're lucky and don't piss me off, I'll make sure it's not you!"

He waved Rick toward the rear of the truck, then darted to his left to move around the front bumper. Looking back, he caught O'Connell's eye and held up three fingers. With a confirming nod from his partner, he started dropping his fingers. When the last one fell, they both started screaming and firing wildly, working to impersonate a platoon of Legionnaires.

They stopped when they realized they were alone. Dust was falling from the ceilings and columns and shattered artifacts fell to the floor, breaking further, all of it from the adventurers' barrage.

Jones, archeologist by trade, stared at the mess, chagrined as the damage to the priceless relics. O'Connell took a somewhat more practical – if just as sickened – view of the mess:

"Evy's going to kill me."

"All of this belongs in a museum," Jones said, "but we don't have time to worry about it right now. Where'd our friends go?"

A low rumble, more felt than heard, started to roll through the space, coming from the first chamber.

The one with the exit.

Jones and O'Connell darted back down the hall to see the massive door starting to slide down to seal the tunnel. As they entered the room, they also caught a hissing sound, but it was a distraction, just background noise to the door rumbling shut.

Without hesitating, O'Connell re-loaded his captured handgun and opened fire on the top of a column near the door.

"What…?" Jones started to ask.

"Shut up!" O'Connell yelled. "Grab that rope over there!" he gestured to the left side of the room.

Indy ran and grabbed the rope, then realized it was a coiled bullwhip. Before he had time to think about it, though, he saw what was causing the hissing sound as a long fuse was running to a stack of barrels in the corner of the room.

"Rick, we've got a stack of kegs full of black….."

"No time," O'Connell cut him off again. "Get that rope around the top of this column here!"

Darting back, Indy looked up at the cracks O'Connell's shots had created in the stone.

"Stand back," he said. When Rick was clear, he snapped the whip around with a loud _CRACK_ as it wrapped around the top of the column.

"PULL!" Rick yelled as he grabbed the end of the whip.

The men tugged, the again. On the third pull, the cracks widened and the stone slipped, bringing the column crashing down. They shoved a large section of it and pushed, heaving it until it was under the closing door. Ducking under the stone slab, they ran out, watching the plumes of sand kicked up by the tomb raiders' trucks on their way to Cairo.

"Why'd we mess with the column?" Jones asked. "We had plenty of time to run get out the door before it closed."

"Yeah," O'Connell said, still watching the trucks in the distance, "but we don't know how they opened the door to start with. Now the museum folks can still get in and help themselves." He glanced at the whip in Indy's hand. "You're pretty handy with that thing."

"Takes practice," Jones answered, fingering the scar on his chin.

They turned and started to walk back into the tomb.

"So what were you saying about kegs? Because I know I could sure use a dr….OOF!"

The air left O'Connell as Jones tackled him to the ground. Before he could protest, the ground kicked beneath them and a blast of heat washed over their backs from the open door. A tower of rock and sand shot up over a hundred feet over the center of each of the chambers.

As the debris started to rain down on them, they noticed the sand beneath them had started to slide backwards, toward the gaping crater in the desert floor.

O'Connell grabbed Indy by the back of the shirt and shoved him toward the top of the ramp. His voice was drowned out by the roaring sound of the sand, but Indy didn't need to hear to know he needed to run. They both tried to run, but as the sand slid, it turned more into a scrambling crawl, losing a yard for every two they gained.

Finally they reached the top of the mound, the sand barely moving beneath them now. They collapsed to the ground.

"I hate when that happens," O'Connell said.

"…kegs of black powder," Indy gasped.

"So if we'd have stopped the fuses, we'd have saved the treasure…."

"But we'd have been trapped inside."

"Yeah….well, we could have saved it and run out…."

"And been locked out with no way to get back in. Don't second guess yourself, Rick. We're alive, so that's a win."

O'Connell flopped back into the sand again.

"Yay, us…"

**CHAPTER V**

Back in Cairo, Rick and Indy checked their respective residences and found exactly what they'd expected: Evy had already left for England while Abner and Marion were go to…._Wherever. Probably home to Chicago_, Indy thought.

Jones had made arrangements to meet with the one man who knew everything that happened in Cairo, which is why he and O'Connell now found themselves sitting in an open-air bar in the market district.

"The plane left the late last night," rumbled a deep baritone with an accent to make Gilbert and Sullivan weep with joy. "My cousin at the field said the plane was filled with passengers, but only one small crate.

"That gives them quite a head start," Jones said, turning to O'Connell. "Do you have any connections to get us a flight?"

"The last pilot I knew died in sands near Hamunaptra."

"_You_ know the location of Hamunaptra?" the big man asked in surprise.

"The former location," O'Connell answered. "It's truly gone now."

"But…..no man alive…."

"Not now, Sallah," Jones cut his friend off. "You're the best field man in Egypt, probably in Africa, but I've heard the story. It's gone and even you aren't going to find it."

Sallah Mohammed Faisel el-Kahir leaned back in his seat, eyeing the newcomer.

"We'll talk about this again, my friend, and the drinks will be on me!"

"Now, that's an offer I can handle," O'Connell responded.

"Indy, my friend," Sallah said, bringing his attention back to the present, "I know a man with a cargo aircraft. He should be able to get you to Rome."

"This is a _real_ airplane, right, Sallah? Not like…."

"No, no, no! Not like the Giza trip at all! Although…."

"What, Sallah?" Jones growled.

"Well, you see…..it _is_ a cargo plane…..

The Junker W33 flew through a cloud bank over the Tyrrhenian Sea, causing a wet, cold fog inside the craft. Sitting on crates in the cargo hold, Jones and O'Connell could smell the wet wool, and it wasn't from the lining of their coats.

"This guy, Sallah?" O'Connell yelled over the noise of the engine. "He's _really_ your friend? I mean, you don't, like, owe him money or something, do you?"

Jones mumbled something that sounded vaguely like _kill Sallah_, but it was lost to O'Connell under the bleating of the dozen sheep jammed into the cargo hold with them.

**CHAPTER VI**

As they debarked onto the runway, brush stray clumps of wool from their clothes, they both took the time to stretch their backs.

"Cairo to Crete to Sicily to Rome in only twenty hours," O'Connell grumbled. "I guess it beats a boat for time, but the comfort could use some work."

Rick and Indy grabbed their bags off the ground as a small, bookish man in small round glasses came running up to them.

"Mr. Jones? This was just wired in for you…." He trailed off, realizing he was addressing both men and didn't know which was his intended customer.

Indy took the message and turned to O'Connell, a slight grin on his face.

"Tip the man, would you?" he said, walking off before Rick could argue. Opening the telegraph, he saw some useful information.

Rebuild Rome activity increasing – stop –

Scheduled private use of Colosseum – stop –

Regards – stop –

Sallah – stop – – end –

Rick walked up behind him as he finished reading

"You owe me ten bucks."

"You tipped him ten dollars?"

"No," O'Connell said, "I tipped him five. The other five is an inconvenience tax for putting up with your sh…"

"Here, read." He talked as Rick read. "We need to find out when they have they have the Colosseum reserved. I'm willing to bet it's either at dusk or at dawn."

Rick nodded in agreement.

"Because that's when the barrier between worlds is the weakest."

Jones snorted a laugh.

"Yeah, if you believe in that sort of thing." He stopped at the serious look in O'Connell's eyes.

"Take it from me, Indy, 'that sort of thing' really does exist. C'mon, I know someone that can get us some local information. You have your Sallah, I have my….I'm not sure what to call him."

Rick led off, finding a nearby hotel to drop their gear and then making their way to a hole-in-the-wall bar called Orchidea Rossa. As the walked, Rick explained who they were going to meet and his plan for when they arrived.

"Are you sure? I mean, what if he bolts?" Jones asked

"Trust me, running won't be his first thought."

Though it was the middle of the day, the bar was nearly pitch-black inside. As Indy's eyes adjusted to the dark, Rick tapped his shoulder and point to the left end of the bar. There was a man, back to the door, chatting with a blonde woman who was laughing and brushing his arm with her finger. Without saying a word, Jones squared his shoulders, getting his 'official' posture and walking across the room to the bar.

Reaching out, Jones grabbed the man's shoulder is a firm, tight grasp.

"Jonathan Carnahan? I need to speak with you. There's an artifact that has….gone missing." This last was said in a tone that implied the artifact wasn't missing at all, and that they knew exactly who was responsible.

The blonde go the message, grabbing her drink and walking away like she'd never seen either man before.

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about! I haven't even been to the Smithsonian for years! Besides, I…"

"You need to come with me _right now_, Mr. Carnahan."

Jones turned him by the shoulder and pulled him off of the stool, steering him toward a back corner. Signaling the bartender for drinks behind Jonathan's back, the shoved him into a seat behind the table, back against the wall so he couldn't run. Already seated at the table, O'Connell had Indy's hat pulled down over his eyes, appearing to be asleep.

"Look, gents, I'm sure this is all a big misunderstanding. Let me buy a around and we'll get this all straightened out."

Jonathan stood up and reached for his wallet.

"Sit down!" Jones snapped. "Hands on the table! I've got a pistol drawn and I _never_ shoot second!"

"You're in a heap of trouble this time, Johnny," O'Connell grumbled from under the hat. Lifting his head, staring straight into Jonathan's eyes. "I mean, no letter, not even a wire to let your sister know you got here safe and sound."

It took Jonathan a few moments to realize he was being stared down by his brother-in-law.

"O'Connell? You cheeky bastard! Did Evy really send you here?"

"No, she actually doesn't give a damn," Rick said, pulling off the fedora and tossing it on the table. Jones picked it up and putting it back on, visibly shifting to a more calm, relaxed posture.

"So, what, then? An American comes asking around and you sell me right out?"

"This has nothing to do with you," Jones said, cutting off the rant. "That was just fun. Though, I _might_ have to send someone to check with you about the Smithsonian."

"Jonathan," Rick said, jumping in, "who do you go to in Rome if you, say, want to have private time in the Colosseum?"

Jonathan thought about it as the bartender delivered the drinks Indy had ordered. After he left, Jonathan took a long pull on his beer before answering.

"Not that I would _ever_ do anything like this, of course but if I would, talking to someone in the public service office would be a good start. Oh, I know!" he said, as thought it'd just dawned on him. "An undersecretary for maintenance who can close it for an inspection would be a good person."

"And, my valiant brother-in-law, would you just _happen_ to know anyone who fits that description?"

"As a matter of fact, my friend Aldo just got bumped up to that position! Remarkable timing, really."

"Remarkable," Indy deadpanned.

Jonathan jotted down an address on a napkin and slid it across the table.

"If you really want him to do this, make sure you bring a big stack of cash."

"You're not coming along to give us an introduction?" Jones asked.

"Uhhmm…..that is to say….I'd love to, but I'm taking a ship to Paris in about an hour. Rather hastily laid-on trip, but..." he turned to Rick. "You know how it goes, right?"

"Right," Rick answered, "and I suppose you'd rather I didn't mention it to Evy?"

"Well, if you don't mind. I mean, you know how she worries."

Jones and O'Connell got up to leave, Rick tossing some money onto the table to cover the drinks.

"Oh, one last thing. When you talk to Aldo….you, uh, may not want mention you know me."

Rick shook his head at his brother-in-law.

"Can't you at least _pretend_ to behave?"

"Says the guy who nearly ended up hanged after we first met!" Jonathan called out after him.

O'Connell and Indy stood blinking in the afternoon sun for a moment.

"Hanged?" Indy asked.

"Long story. C'mon, let's go find Aldo."

**CHAPTER VII**

Aldo Giordano sat behind his desk, feet up on a drawer as he studied Jones and O'Connell, who were seated across from him. His hands were folded on the expansive top of his belly.

"Let me see if I understand," he said in heavily accented English. "You claim you're here for the Rebuild Rome meeting, but you need me to tell you where it's at, and about their leader?"

Rick laid another stack of American twenty-dollar bills next to the first for a total of four hundred dollars.

"Is that a problem for you?" Jones asked.

Eyeing the cash, Giordano shook his head.

"Not anymore. Tavia Donocti is very popular in Rome right now. Her father held a high ministry position until _Il Duce_ took over." He gestured at the painting behind his desk, the typical portrait of a government leader. "He was politely invited to leave the government and moved his family to the US. He died not long after.

"Tavia blamed the new government and that's when she started Rebuild Rome. The government thought she was planning something dangerous, so they had her on a watch-list for a few years. All of the time and money the group has, though, has gone into excavating and restoring ancient sites around the city. This party at the Colosseum is supposed to be their biggest event to do more to…um… 'restore the past glory of Rome,' I believe is how their pamphlets list it."

Rick and Indy shared a look, worried that something big was about to come down.

"When is the party?" Rick asked.

"Oh! That's tonight, starts about eight PM, though it's _very_ exclusive."

"Don't worry," Jones said, tapping the stacks of bills on the desk. "We know people."

**CHAPTER VIII**

After circling the massive stone amphitheatre twice, O'Connell and Jones had decided the gladiators' gate was the best option.

"Only two guards," Jones whispered. "Shouldn't be any problem."

"Right about the time someone says that," O'Connell growled back, "is when everything goes to hell and back. Come on!"

Both men were dressed in what they considered 'work clothes'; dark pants, sturdy boots, and, due to the time of year, heavy leather jackets. Both were carrying enough equipment to start – or stop – a war.

Keeping things quite, they rushed the guards, knocking them out quickly and dragging them into the shadows.

Creeping through the bowels of the building, they came to and open room with no roof – part of the 'holding area' for the gladiators. They could hear muffled voices coming from somewhere nearby, so they started heading in that direction.

O'Connell, taking the lead, waved them to a stop.

"One guard ahead, and I can see people kneeling past him. Donocti's up on a platform, chanting, with the Crown on."

"What's she saying?" Jones asked.

"How the hell should I know," Rick somehow yelled in a whisper. "I don't speak Latin!"

"Move!"

Jones switched positions with O'Connell, listening to the voice.

_Ubasti vigoros, lo convoco_

_Il supporto della parte sueriore lo denomina_

_Ubasti, siete necessario ristablilire l'ordine_

_Lo ordino per fare mia offerta_

Jones pulled back.

"It's not Latin, it's Italian. Really bad Italian, like someone did a crappy translation. The gist is:

Mighty Ubasti, I summon you

The Holder of the Crown calls you

Ubasti, you are needed to restore order

I summon you to do my bidding!"

"I'm not expert," Rick said, "but I get the feeling that trying to order a god around seems like a bad idea."

"I'm going to take out the guard, then we can plot our next move."

"Watch yourself. We don't know how many guards are around here. If you make too much noise…"

Jones gave him that smug grin.

"Then I guess I'll have to do it real quiet-like, won't I?"

Jones crept around the corner with the intent of moving quietly down the hall and dropping the guard from behind. He realized his mistake when he saw the silhouette of the guard drawing his gun from the holster.

"Great," he mumbled to himself, "I get the one guard who actually does his job instead of watching the show behind him."

Without conscious thought, he grabbed the whip off his belt, snapping his wrist and catching the guard's hand just as the gun cleared leather.

The sound of the gun hitting the floor was like an aftershock to the deafening _crack_ of the whip. Both men just stood there, stunned. The new silence was broken b the sound of a shouted command and running feet.

Rick came around the corner with his hands up, four armed men at his back.

"Oh, 'I'll just do it real quiet-like'" he said mockingly as he was led up next to Jones.

They were both shoved out of the tunnel and into the center of the Colosseum. They were stripped of all of their equipment and weapons, leaving them helpless against the two armed guards that were left to cover them.

"You two should have stayed dead in Egypt," Donocti called from the platform. "Now you'll be the first witnesses – and the first sacrifices – to the new Empire."

She began to chant again, louder, more forcefully. Rick and Indy watched as the air behind her began to ripple, like waves of heat off of hot pavement.

"Umm….Rick? Do you see…..?"

"Yeah, I see it," O'Connell said, jaw clenched tight. "I think she's about to see what happens when you summon a god and they answer. Wanna bet it doesn't work out in her favor?"

Jones didn't answer because the stars behind Donocti were being to vanish as….something….began to materialize in the center of the ripples in the air.

The guards – not actually part of the Rebuild Rome organization – had seen enough and fled, leaving Rick and Indy unguarded. Neither made a move to leave, though. They were still watching as the air stopped moving and coalesced into a solid form.

Towering nearly one hundred feet over the floor of the Colosseum, massive yellow eyes looked down over a feline muzzle, complete with whiskers as long as a person was tall. The massive creature stood upright, draped in decorative armor, draping down her chest – obviously a female, now – with bracers and greaves completing the look. The massive scepter in her hand seemed an afterthought.

"Great Goddess Bast!" Donocti called up from the platform. "I have summoned you to…._gack!_"

Donocti was yanked off her feet by a massive paw/hand. Though the mouth of the creature – the goddess – didn't move, a rich, feminine voice resonated throughout the ruins.

"You dare think you have the authority to summon me _anywhere?"_

Donocti struggled in the massive grip as her followers started yelling and shouting to get their leader released. Bast reached down again, scooping up the half-dozen men and women still standing around in her other fist – the scepter vanishing – and then promptly forgot about them.

"But…." Donocti gasped as she was squeezed, "…I wear…the crown….I'm…..immo…_ack_!"

"Immortality?" A warm, rolling laughter filled the air. "Stupid mortal, do you think _any_ god would share that gift? Mortal harms wouldn't fall the wearer, but they would still age and die. I would never take that gift away from Anubis."

The air near her feet shimmered spiraling in a black maw, lines like lightning darting throughout the spot. With a flip of her wrist, she cast first Donocti – still wearing the crown – then the rest of the Rebuild Rome group toward the shimmering spot. All seven vanished when they hit the spot, then the blackness vanished, the massive figure following closely behind, leaving just the floor of the Colosseum.

"Ummm….." was all O'Connell managed to say.

Before Jones could even think to respond, a figure approached them from the darkness. They realized it was Bast, looking exactly the same as the massive figure, but now human-sized.

"Thank you for your efforts on my behalf," she said as she reached them. "You've brought to a close a very dangerous – and embarrassing – chapter of my story."

Unable to think of anything to say, Jones asked the first thing that popped into his head.

"Embarrassing?"

"I made the decision that Alexander of Macedonia could be a ruler for the ages. He was respectful of the old ways, but open to innovation and invention. When he refused the crown, I _expected_ him to destroy it or keep it with him. He in it instead, using mysticism to keep even _me_ from finding it."

"You speak English?" O'Connell blurted out.

That warm laugh came again, sounding very much like a cat purring

"I'm not speaking your language, but I can make myself understood to mortals."

"But….how?"

"Because I'm a god," she said, humour evident in her voice. "Just because the world has moved on and relegated us to myth, we _do_ still enjoy some of the perks."

"What's going to happen to Donocti?" Jones cut in before Rick could say anything else. "And what happens to the crown?"

"Since she was wearing the crown when she crossed over, it's hers forever. And, since it prevents mortal injury but doesn't stop pain, I think my husband will find new ways to punish her for her transgressions. And he will do just that, for a long…..long time."

"Damn….that would have been fantastic on display."

Yes, Henry Jones, but the temptation would have led to more bloodshed. As we have no more control over the modern world, that was not my choice to make. When the power was activated, I was instructed to remove it from the world of mortals."

"Instructed?" Rick asked. "You have to follow orders?"

"Yes, Rick O'Connell. Even we gods have to answer to a higher authority. In this case, the One who is Above All directed the crown to be eliminated from this plane."

The two men stood there, silent, at a loss of what to say to a god. Bast broke the silence.

"Though the crown is lost, in return for your efforts, I return this to you as I depart," her image began to fade, leaving the living world behind. Her laugh echoed as she vanished, her voice echoing from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

"No fighting over who gets it, boys….."

There, at their feet, was the golden scroll that had started all of this for the two of them.

**EPILOGUE**

**(three days later)**

** "**You _are _going to make sure that goes back to a museum, right?"

O'Connell glanced at the wrapped bundle at his feet that Jones had waved a hand toward.

"I'm sure it will go back to Cairo, but I'll let Evy decide. It belongs with Imhotep's stuff, and I know I don't want to deal with him or his problems again."

"Just make sure it doesn't end up in your personal collection."

"No way," O'Connell held up his hands in a surrender gesture. "I can't imagine anyone in my family messing with anything from Hamunaptra ever again….." he stopped, a thoughtful tilt to his head. "Well, maybe Jonathan. What about you? Where's the great Indiana Jones off to next?"

"Well, I'm on a ship that's going south to Morocco, then around up your way, probably to London University sooner or later. They have a great archeology program, and I met a student from there, Deirdre…."

O'Connell laughed at the younger man.

The two men finished their beers and stood, shaking hands.

"Well, _try_ to stay out of trouble, Jones."

"You too, Rick. It's been fun, but I'm staying away from the mystical stuff from here on out."

"Never say never, Indy," Rick said with a knowing smile, turning to leave before tossing back over his shoulder, "trust me!"

**END**


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